


Meeting Expectations

by FlorentineQuill



Series: Preening Her, Preening Him [2]
Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Aurora is a morning person, Diaval will do a lot of things for spider scones, F/M, Gen, Maleficent is not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlorentineQuill/pseuds/FlorentineQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aurora arrives early to the thorn border and Diaval helps Maleficent get ready, in his own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting Expectations

“Good morning, Diaval!” 

Diaval finished cleaning his talons from the carrion breakfast he had found and looked up. Aurora beamed up at him as she drew to a stop before the thorn border that separated the Moors from Stefan’s land. She was dressed for the chilly fall morning in a thick blue cloak and had a basket slung over one arm. He croaked a greeting before fluttering down to a lower branch. This put him within convenient scratching range of Aurora and he fluffed his feathers in content as she scratched his head. After she pulled away, he eyed the basket. Smells were nonexistent to him as a raven but he could see steam curling up past the garishly checkered cloth (blue and pink and green, he noted with amusement).

“Is Godmother nearby?” Aurora asked, all innocence. She hefted her basket. “I brought us some breakfast today.”

_Erk._ It had taken him several months to discover the fact but his mistress was not one to rise with the larks at first light. Oh, she was often up before most residents of the Moors but it was not a natural inclination, whatsoever. A large part of the borders was watched over and defended by Balthazar and his kin, but she guarded the section closest to Aurora’s cottage by herself and often at night. If forced out of bed, she was often silent unless forced into speech and covered her exhaustion by fixing her formidable gaze on a far-off point.

“Diaval?” 

Diaval shook himself all over.He half-raised his wings and ducked his head, the closest he could come to shrugging outside of his man-shape. Aurora looked disappointed. “Do you think she’ll be here soon?” she asked. “I brought porridge and tea and scones.” She wrinkled her nose and leaned towards him. “My aunties are a bit hopeless in the kitchen,” she whispered. “Aunt Thistlewit added spiders and ants to the scones again, so I thought you and the other birds might enjoy them.”

He eyed the basket more intently, clicking his beak. The three pixies had gained some culinary skills over the years, often helped by a younger Aurora’s refusal to eat anything noxious. Aurora laughed and pushed his head away when he leaned forward. “Not before Godmother gets here, greedy bird. I’m sure that’s enough incentive for you to fetch her for me!” 

_Certainly enough incentive to try_ , he thought but shoved off the branch and into the air, flapping hard to get above the thorns. The distance between the border and Maleficent’s home made for a short flight but it would still take Maleficent time to walk back. Forests faded up along craggy slopes and cliffs that eventually led to the abandoned castle where he had first caught a glimpse of his mistress. He spotted a lone tree standing guard at a cliff edge and dove down, skimming the cliff face itself. From here it was less than an hour’s walk to the river meadows where the local faeries lived and the thorn border was closer still. 

Darting amongst the trees, the local birds squawked and shrilled at him as he flew past and he wanted to laugh. They knew him, knew his mistress, but some things never changed. See a stranger near your nest, you let him know to best be on his way. Soon enough, he approached his goal: Three forest giants that had fallen in centuries past against the base of the cliff. A cliff riddled with caves. 

He didn’t know if his mistress had lived in these caves before but she had certainly made herself at home. The massive trees guarded several false entrances that dead-ended after hundreds of feet of twisting turns. The real entrance was hidden under several layers of illusion and swathes of actual roots and moss that looked like they had not been disturbed for centuries. Magic shivered under his feathers as he swooped inside, moss and roots parting just enough for him to pass into the tunnel beyond. 

Inside, the air was cool and clammy. Ambient magic hovered in the air lighting his way, but it was still a shock to his sensible, raven eyes. From here, it was less than fifty wingbeats to the chamber that served as Maleficent’s bedroom. He was forced to land just inside the entrance. While the rest of the cave was lit, Maleficent preferred to rest in total darkness. 

He scraped a foot against the ground and preened his left wing into order before clearing his throat. He took in a deep breath and held the thought of lovely, warm, spider-laced scones in his mind’s eye before letting loose with a cacophonous burst of alarm calls that bounced off stone walls and echoed. He shut his beak with a snap and back-winged furiously to avoid the wave of golden magic that heralded a transformation. He waited for his mistress’s magic to dissipate before approaching again. There was another flicker of magic but it was only Maleficent letting the bedroom dimly glow. 

He couldn’t see much except the baleful glare of one eye over the edge of the Maleficent-sized nest she slept in. “Diaval. What is it?” she growled and this time, he didn’t dodge the magic she aimed at him, feathers molding into flesh and cloth.

He stood up and cleared his throat. “Apologies, Mistress,” he said. “Aurora is at the border.”

There was a moment of silence and Diaval swallowed as the temperature in the air seemed to drop. Maleficent closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Let her wander, it is early yet,” she said and started to roll over.

“She brought you breakfast,” he said gently. Best not to mention the spider scones waiting for him, not if he planned on being returned to his raven form instead of say, a gnat, or a flea, anytime soon.

“…She what.” 

“Brought you breakfast.” He studied the dirt ground into the edges of his soft human nails and waited, leaning against the stone arch of the doorway. “Made it herself, since the pixies are still bumbling idiots in the kitchen.” After several minutes of silence, there came the rustling of blankets as Maleficent emerged from her nest. He looked up and had to bite back a smile— While his mistress would never condescend to mutter and curse at being pulled out of bed early, she was perfectly capable of expressing her displeasure without words. This coupled with her sleep-rumpled appearance was a far cry from her usual poise and grace.

“Stop looking amused, Diaval. It doesn’t suit you,” his mistress sniffed, blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

He smirked. “Of course not, how silly of me.” He gave a mocking bow and felt her magic ripple in the air. When he came up, she was dressed for the day in the heavy, fur-lined coat she wore in the winter months, a wool dress hidden underneath. She started to walk past him and he blinked before clearing his throat. “Mistress?”

“What?” she asked. “If I am to be up this early, best to be on our way.”

“It is a bit of a walk,” he allowed. “But, um,” he waved his hand towards her hair. “No wrap today?”

Maleficent pursed her lips and gathered her hair on top of her head. Another flexing of green-gold magic and he watched, fascinated, as a length of leathery fabric shimmered into existence. It wrapped up and around her horns, tucking in on itself, until only a few tendrils of hair were visible. He winced. “Mistress—”

“I am aware, Diaval,” she replied dryly and tucked the tendrils out of sight. He let out a sigh of relief and she arched an eyebrow. “Am I preened enough for your exacting tastes, vain bird?” she asked.

“More like yours,” he replied with a snort. “I could have let you meet Aurora with messy hair.”

She picked up her staff from where it leaned beside the doorway and favored him with a considering look. “A mouse, I think,” she mused aloud as she strode towards the entrance of the cave. “I always thought you could find out so much more information if you could get inside the castle itself…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Good gods, the amount of head canon and world building conversations that went into this xD Yay for late night Skype convos with Ambrosia! There will be eventual preening of the traditional variety but it's going to take time.


End file.
